


The Little Wolf

by MorningStarGirl666



Series: Wolfblood [1]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Eventual Klaroline, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Full Shift Werewolves, Werewolf Culture, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:48:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MorningStarGirl666/pseuds/MorningStarGirl666
Summary: The little boy saw the eyes first. Lupine yellow, staring at him from the shadows, glowing more brightly than the moon. As it moved closer, the little boy's eyes widened, forced to watch as the wolf emerged from the darkness, white moonlight cascading down onto its fur. It stood as tall as a horse, larger than any wolf the little boy had ever heard of, fur as black as the night that enclosed around it. As it approached, it slowly raised its head, looking down at the boy with a gaze that seemed to burn though his very soul."Are you going to eat me?" The little boy shakily asked.A deep, guttural sound answered him, and after a second he realised the wolf was chuckling."Eat you? Why would I do that?"Prequel to 'The Big Bad Wolf'
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Series: Wolfblood [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2122230
Comments: 24
Kudos: 83





	1. The Boy Who Cried Wolf

Overhead, the trees thrashed in the relentless wind, rain pouring down in torrents as it bombarded the little houses that were scattered throughout the village. But even that, an assault of sound and natural violence, could not drown out the roars of anger that came from the largest house. A crash echoed, pottery smashed against a wall and then – the cry of a child.

Moments past, enraged shouts and pleading cries lost in the storm. Then, suddenly, the front door was thrown open, the wood slamming against the wall as the little boy ran from the man inside.

"NIKLAUS!" A woman ran after him, her cry panicked as she realised the storm was no place for such a young child. She barely made it past the doorway before hands encircled her waist, pulling her back inside.

"I SAID LEAVE HIM!" The man dragging her snarled, her arm enclosed painfully in his steel grip. He turned, addressing his other two sons, who lingered at the doorway, obviously debating whether or not to run after their brother. "THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YOU!" The man sneered, looking in the direction the boy had disappeared. "The boy will come snivelling back soon enough."

The door was slammed shut, cutting off any protests that could have been made, blocking out the rest of the world; including the storm, and the little boy running through it. Even though tears streaked down his face in two tiny rivers, he did not stop, running away from him, from them, from everything. He ran until he could run no more.

His clothing clung to him like an ice blanket, soaking him to the bone. His body ached with exhaustion, adrenaline withering away just as the wind died and the rain softened, but it was too late. Stumbling blindly through the woods in the darkness as he was, he realised he was lost. He knew these woods, but only in the light of day. Infinite blackness surrounded him now, casting the trees in shadow, and even the crescent moon was obscured by the branches, barely breaking through. The little boy swallowed, blue eyes darting around him as he slowed to a stop. An owl hooted overhead, the only sound in the eerie silence.

A crack echoed through the woods, making the little boy whip his head around to the sound. Fear clutched his heart as he heard more fallen branches and dead leaves crunching underfoot, and not waiting to find out the cause of the sound, he ran. He didn't get very far though, catching his foot on an upturned root. Crying out, he toppled forward, falling to the forest floor. Dirt and leaves pressed against his face, broken twigs digging uncomfortably into his body. A small whimper escaped his mouth as he rolled over, hands reaching for his painfully twisted ankle. Another crack of twigs snapping underfoot echoed like thunder before he could even try to stand. Terrified, he raised his head achingly slow, afraid to see the black silhouette moving between the trees.

The little boy saw the eyes first. Lupine yellow, staring at him from the shadows, glowing more brightly than the moon. As it moved closer, the little boy's eyes widened, forced to watch as the wolf emerged from the darkness, white moonlight cascading down onto its fur. It stood as tall as a horse, larger than any wolf the little boy had ever heard of, fur as black as the night that enclosed around it. As it approached, it slowly raised its head, looking down at the boy with a gaze that seemed to burn though his very soul.

The little boy gulped audibly. His mother had warned him of the wolf-men, warned him of the danger they posed. Their village's peace with them was a fickle thing, no one daring to trespass across their land. The little boy hoped he had not wandered too far. But even then, it was not a full moon, so how could this wolf be standing before him with the intense gaze of a man?

He should be afraid. Petrified. This was one of the wolf-men, he could tell. And even if he couldn't see those wolfish teeth, sharper than his father's swords no doubt, didn't mean they weren't there. But as the little boy sat frozen, half in fear, half in shock, somehow he knew the wolf was not there to hurt him. Somehow, he knew he was safe. After all, there was no snarl on its face, nor was its ears pinned back against its head as a sign of aggression. It simply observed him with eyes shining with too much intelligence to be a wolf. _This was no normal wolf-man,_ his instincts seemed to say. _He is not here to hurt you._ Even so, the little boy couldn't help but feel doubt, formed there by the countless teasing and scary tales his brothers had concocted over the years - tales of mindless beasts that went hunting every full moon with an appetite for little boys and girls.

A question plagued his young mind, fearing the answer even though, logically, the wolf could not give him one.

"Are you going to eat me?" The little boy shakily asked.

A deep, guttural sound answered him, and after a second he realized the wolf was chuckling.

_"Eat you? Why would I do that?"_

The little boy's eyes widened as he heard the masculine voice inside his head. But he was still a child, and had a more open mind than adults did, so his confusion soon overrode any rationality that the wolf shouldn't be able to talk. "You're one of the wolf-men. My brothers say the wolf-men eat little children for supper."

Another rumbling chuckle answered him.

_"Really? How peculiar. I've never eaten any children."_

"Why not?"

_"I'm not like the wolf-men. I am... a different breed. Eating little children does not interest me."_

The little boy frowned. "But why?"

_"I'm no savage."_

"Why?"

The wolf shifted, exhaling a huff of annoyance. _"You sure do ask a lot of questions, don't you, little wolf?"_

"I'm not a wolf."

Yellow eyes twinkled in amusement. _"Are you sure?"_

"Yes." Came the confident answer, a frown of defiance on his face. "I'm a Mikaelson."

The wolf tilted its head as it considered the boy in front of him. _"Whoever said you can't be both?"_

The little boys brows knotted in confusion, an adorable frown on his face. The black wolf slowly lowered to the ground as the boy thought about the question, laying itself down in front of him, large paws outstretched towards the boy. When no answer came, the wolf spoke again. _"You look like a wolf to me."_

"I can't be."

 _"Why not?"_ The wolf asked inside his head, echoing the boy's earlier words.

The boy looked down at the dirt beneath his feet. "I'm not strong enough. Father thinks I'm weak."

_"So you admit defeat? You wish to run away?"_

"I'm not a coward." The little boy protested angrily.

_"Neither is a wolf."_

The little boy could not argue against that. He watched as the wolf's tail swayed across the forest floor, rustling fallen leaves and broken twigs in its wake.

"I don't belong there."

_"But they are your family - your pack. Every wolf needs a pack."_

"Do you have a pack?" The little boy asked, curious.

The wolf nodded. _"I do."_

"Are they like you?"

The wolf seemed to pause. _"No."_

"But you still live with them?"

 _"They are my pack."_ The wolf stated, as if it explained everything. The little boy understood though.

"I don't want to be alone."

 _"Then don't be."_ The wolf argued simply.

"But I told you, he... they hate me." The little boy sniffed, a few new tears falling. The wolf respected the little boys wish to leave the true meaning of his words unspoken.

 _"Why would they hate you, little wolf?"_ The wolf asked softly, nose closer now, head lowered in a comforting way towards the boy.

"I told you. I'm too weak."

The wolf seemed to hum in consideration. _"A wolf is never weak, as long as it is never alone. And you are not alone, little wolf."_

"I'm not?" The boy asked, looking up at the wolf hopefully.

 _"Of course not."_ The wolf reassured. _"You have me."_

The boy smiled, and this time, it was brighter than even the moon.

 _"Come, little wolf. Your pack needs you."_ The wolf shifted to stand, as did the boy, but he winced in pain, clutching his ankle.

"I can't. I hurt my ankle when I fell."

The wolf observed the injury for a moment, even leaning down to sniff the quickly swelling appendage, before locking with the boy's little blue eyes. _"Then I will carry you. Stand up, little wolf."_

The little boy tried, wincing as he did so, almost falling again before the wolf lowered his head, catching the boy's small body. The little boy felt stronger then, leaning against the wolf. He wasn't alone.

Clutching the wolf's black fur in his little hands, the boy pulled himself up, grateful the wolf had lowered his body to the ground once more so he wasn't as tall. It was still a huge effort though, and the little boy nearly fell down twice before he finally managed to swing his leg over the wolf's side and pull himself onto the wolf's back. When he was stable there, with no danger of falling off, the wolf stood, muscles rippling powerfully underneath the thick mass of fur. The little boy leaned down, welcoming the furnace-like heat the wolf's body offered him, warming his shivering body.

The wolf moved slowly at first, careful not to jostle his precious cargo, but then the little boy urged him to go faster and after a chuckle and an amused reply - _"As you wish, little wolf,"_ \- their pace increased tenfold. Clutching tightly to the wolf's fur, the little boy grinned. The leaves underfoot were ghosted over, trees left wind-swept, and the little boy was overwhelmed by the feeling of exhilarating speed - feeling _everything_. The power of the wind; the warmth of the body beneath him and the hammering heart in his own chest. The boy never once feels scared as the wolf leaps over logs; just dodges the trees - air whizzing, fur flattening. Instead, the little boy only feels alive, feels like a _wolf._

It was not long until they arrived at the edge of the woods and the boy spotted the flickering candlelight, illuminating the open windows of the little houses that made up his village. The wolf slowed to a trot, and then slowed again, eventually coming to a stop. He turned his head to the side, addressing the little boy still sat on his back.

 _"I'm afraid this is as far as I can go, little wolf."_ The wolf said as he lowered his body to the ground. Taking the hint, the little boy slowly climbed down, hopping slightly on one leg when he was left to stand on his own. He turned to the wolf, catching its gaze.

"You can't come with me?" The boy innocently asked. Maybe it was the child's imagination, but an expression of sadness seem to flash across the wolf's features.

_"No. I'm sorry, little wolf, but I can't."_

"But you said I'm not alone." The little boy pleaded, grasping the wolf's fur tightly in one small fist.

 _"And you will never be. I will always be close by, little wolf, keeping you safe."_ The wolf explained, brushing its nose against the little boy's cheeks. _"And I will always come when you call."_

"Always and forever? Like Mother says?"

The wolf froze, lifting its head after a tense few seconds. It stared directly back at the boy, something unreadable in its yellow eyes. 

_"Always and forever."_ The wolf whispered inside the boy's mind, a firm promise. The little boy smiled. _"Off you go, little wolf."_ The wolf encouraged with a little nudge of its huge head. _"And perhaps you shouldn't mention me to your family."_

"Why not?" The boy asked, frowning.

 _"Well, I have a reputation to uphold, as you pointed out. I'm supposed to be gobbling up children."_ The wolf bemusedly drawled. The little boy giggled in response.

"Will I see you again?"

 _"I'm sure you will."_ The wolf warmly reassured, and even though his wolfish features did not twist that way, the boy could hear the smile in his voice. _"One day."_ He promised.

The little boy nodded in acceptance, even if he did not fully understand the wolf's words in his innocence. He turned, walking towards the village, limping but not falling. After all, he was a wolf - he was not weak.

He turned around to say goodbye to the wolf, but it was already gone. The leaves on the trees rustled in the wind, but otherwise the woods were silent, too dark to see what lurked behind the shadows. The little boy stared at the spot where the wolf had once stood, a gap in the tree line, as if tempted to try and go back into the woods to find the wolf. Then he turned back around, spotting his family's small house in the distance. The little boy chose to walk home.

That was the first time Niklaus Mikealson met The Black Wolf. It wasn't the last.


	2. The Beginning Of The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flings new chapter at readers*
> 
> *quickly hides behind the sofa in fear of fallout*

The little boy searched for the wolf in the woods the next day.

And the day after.

And the day after that.

But the wolf was never there.

At first, the little boy thought it was because he was searching during the day. He felt silly when he realized that wolves were creatures of the night - of _course_ he couldn’t find the wolf while the sun still hung high in the sky. So, after his family had all fallen asleep, he snuck out of their small house (nearly falling right on top of his little sister on the way out) and made his way to the woods under the cloak of darkness the night provided.

He wasn’t afraid of the pitch black that greeted him this time. There was no mystery in what lurked in the deep depths of the dark, for he had already discovered all its secrets. The moon was now his friend, guiding his way, never leading him astray.

Even so, the wolf was nowhere to be found.

Exhausted from searching, he had settled at the base of a tree, trying to stifle his tears as he clutched his sides, curling up against the cold. Eventually, his fatigue won out and he drifted asleep under the watchful gaze of the moon.

When he woke, he wasn't in the woods, but laid in the cots he shared with his siblings, tucked under the blankets. Fear he had dreamt his fruitless search gripped him before he remembered a vague feeling of being carried, even the press of a warm body against his own. His eyes flickered back and forth, searching for evidence of the event in his surroundings, before landing on something that hadn‘t been there before. A wooden carving of a knight on horseback was innocently placed beside his bed, not far from him. Where had that come from? His father hadn’t given him that. Elijah was useless at carving so it certainly wasn’t from him.

A smile spread across his face at the thought that the wolf hadn't left him. He leaned over, eagerly grabbing the little wooden toy and hugging it close to his chest. A part of him wondered how the wolf had carried him home without being noticed, but he was too happy to care. The wolf-men had their own breed of magic, he knew – the wolf would have no trouble sneaking in.

Knowing the wolf wished for secrecy, he quickly hid the little statue under his straw pillow before any of his family woke up. The present would be their secret.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and eventually, even the months turned into years. The little boy grew up, coming to accept that he might never speak to the wolf again. However, he was a stubborn boy, his Mother had said so, and he never forgot the wolf’s promise of _one_ day. He may have forgotten the wolf’s voice, or the texture of its thick fur - even the feeling of the wind against his face - but he never forgot the wolf’s promise. And whenever he needed reminding, or needed to feel safe during the dark nights where Mikael‘s words echoed in his restless mind, he clutched his wooden carving a little tighter.

And that was why, even when Mikael’s beatings felt like they would never end, Niklaus never felt alone. Never again. Because although he never found the wolf, that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching. Sometimes he could sense him, whipping around to find yellow eyes watching him from behind the trees. Hopeful, he would always rush to the spot where he had caught a glimpse, only to find the wolf was no longer there. At first, it hurt. It hurt _so_ much. Because it felt like he was being abandoned all over again. Alone. Unwanted. _Never_ enough.

Just like Mikael claimed he was.

But what Niklaus eventually came to realise, was he didn’t need the wolf - didn’t need him to fight his battles. Niklaus could fight them on his own. He remembered the wolf’s words even years later, and he felt stronger. Felt _powerful_. When Mikael threatened to take his necklace as a trophy, he remembered he was not weak - he could be a wolf if he chose to be, just as he chose to be a Mikaelson, a name which he carried with pride despite Mikael’s efforts to shame him for never being worthy of it. And so, he fought, fought because he was a fighter, a survivor. And as a result, he won.

It didn’t matter that Mikael overpowered him in the end. Niklaus knew he was powerful, worthy. Moreover, he knew the wolf would always come when he called, but only when he truly needed him, and not a moment before. His own silent guardian.

But guardians were things from fairy tales, and Niklaus should have known he was never destined for a happily ever after.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Klaus ducked under the overhanging branches, weaving through the trees as he clutched the pommel of his sword in a tight grip, ready at a moment’s notice to unsheathe it. The full moon hung high in the sky, casting shadows amongst the trees that curled and twisted across the forest floor. Klaus paid them no mind, noticing a different type of shadow altogether.

Halting in his tracks, Klaus turned his head slightly, listening to the sound of snapping twigs and rustling leaves. Whoever was following him realised he had stopped too late, and the sounds didn’t quieten before Klaus heard them.

His jaw ticked as he clenched his teeth, before Klaus released the tension in his body with a deep sigh. “Henrik, come out. I know you’re following me.”

Silence echoed.

“Henrik.” Klaus snarled as he spun round, a clear warning.

“Alright, alright.” A voice quickly conceded. A moment later, a young, dark-haired boy moved out from behind the trees, awkwardly standing in plain sight. “Fancy meeting you here, right, Nik?”

Klaus sent him a reprimanding glare.

“Henrik, what the hell are you doing creeping around the woods? It’s a bloody full moon, for Odin’s sake.”

“Following you. What are you doing creeping around the woods on a full moon?”

Klaus opened his mouth several times, trying to formulate an answer. When none came, his mouth snapped shut and his withering glare only intensified. Triumphant, Henrik smirked.

“Not one word.” Klaus threatened, grabbing Henrik’s arm and pulling him back the way they had come.

“What are you doing?” His younger brother asked, struggling in Klaus’ hold as he dug his heels into the ground.

“Taking you back to the caves. It’s not safe out here.” Klaus ground out.

“Wait, Nik, no!” Henrik twisted, breaking from Klaus’ grip and leaping backwards. “You haven’t even answered my question! What are you doing out here? You should be in the caves too! Are you doing something forbidden?”

“Henrik-“

“You’re going to watch the wolf-men transform, aren’t you?”

Klaus froze, shock marring his features as he looked down at his little brother. “How do you even _know_ that?”

“What else would you be doing on a full moon?”

Shaking his head, Klaus grabbed Henrik’s arm once more, yanking him forward. “Look, it doesn’t matter because you are going back to the caves.”

“What, no – Nik, come on!” Henrik protested, struggling once more. It was no use; his older brother was much stronger than he was. “Please, Nik! Let me stay, I want to see them too! I’ll be quiet, promise! I’ll do everything you say!”

Klaus was unmoved. “You said that when we went hunting the other day. Then you completely ignored everything I said and nearly got impaled by that boar’s tusks.”

“Yeah, well, I learnt my lesson, didn’t I?”

Klaus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re worse than Kol.”

“I am not! Take that back!”

“I’ll take it back when you stop struggling!” Klaus growled, giving Henrik a harsh tug before stopping. He leaned forward, jabbing a threatening finger in his little brother’s face as his voice rose in frustration. “I’m taking you back, Henrik! Nothing you say will change my mind! Now stop arguing and come on.”

Klaus let his brother go, trusting him to follow. He had no argument to stand on, nor could he overpower Klaus. He could glare at him all he wanted, but Klaus knew Henrik would follow him unless he wanted to be dragged back to the caves by the ear.

Or at least, that was what Klaus had thought.

“I’ll tell Father.”

Klaus halted in his tracks.

Slowly, he turned around, a betrayed look crossing his face for a second before anger took hold.

“Henrik-“ He started, striding back to his brother.

“If you take me back, I’ll tell father that I followed you out here.” Henrik declared in a rush, causing Klaus to stop in front of him, a frightened look there for a second before he hid it behind a dark glare. “I’ll tell him what you were planning to do. I’ll tell him, Nik, I will.”

Klaus clenched his jaw, looking away. Henrik bit his lip.

“Unless…” Henrik began, causing Klaus to look at him. “…you let me come with you.”

Blue eyes hardened like the waves crashing against rocks in a storm. “No.” The boy ignored him, releasing the puppy dog eyes. “I said _no_ , Henrik.”

“Please? Come on, Nik. Five minutes. We’ll just watch them for five minutes then leave.” He begged. Then, seeing he was getting nowhere, changed tactics. “Or, I suppose we could go back. I’ll be able to tell Father that you-“

“Five minutes?” Klaus ground out, looking anywhere but at his little brother.

Henrik looked up at him, eyes hopeful. “Yes.”

“Fine.” Klaus agreed, causing Henrik to exclaim his excitement. “But only five minutes. Five minutes, Henrik! No longer!”

“Thank you, Nik! Thank you!” The boy launched himself at Klaus, hugging him for every inch of his life. Then he let go, almost just as quickly. “Come on! They might have turned already! We’ve got to get moving!”

His little brother ran off, racing into the dark woods. Klaus sighed, before following after him.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Like with every full moon, Lycaon hung back as the rest of the pack turned. The Alpha always transformed last, protecting the pack members while they were at their most vulnerable. His eyes scanned over the clearing, glowing a bright yellow from the pull of the moon as he watched his brethren transform. Tonight, two young pack members were turning for the first time, having recently proven their ascension to adulthood by triggering the awakening of their wolf. Lycaon’s lips still curled at the thought of the two men that had been killed to complete the awakening. Their twisted hearts hadn’t known what was coming for them until it was too late.

He supposed that was one of the advantages of having a treaty between his people and the villagers. In exchange for staying clear of their land, they provided protection for the settlers from rival clans and invaders. It gave them a steady intake of prisoners that were killed when new wolves were ready, saving them the trouble of declaring a Hunt. As a result, the majority of their victims were the worst of humanity – conquerors and wife-killers, rapists and child thieves.

Suffice to say, the new wolves had ceased losing sleep over their first kill.

Lycaon reminded himself to keep a close eye on the young wolves – their instincts would be overwhelming tonight, and if they weren’t careful, they could stray too close to the caves where the villagers went to hide every full moon. The young wolves may have felt no remorse over the deaths of those men, but it would be a different matter in the face of slaughtering innocents. There was also a matter of the treaty, and the last thing Lycaon needed was the destruction of the peace he had so carefully built.

Dozens of wolves now fully turned, Lycaon sent one last glance in the direction of their village, seeing the light of fires in the distance. Not all pack members turned, after all. The young, the old, the sick - as well as the child-bearing - remained in the pack village, despite the fact that the wolves would never harm them, even under the influence of the intoxicating full moon. As their Alpha, it was Lycaon’s duty to protect them all.

Only, a part of him wished there was another pack member waiting in their village, one that had not awakened their wolf. One that he longed to protect above all others.

“Lycaon? Are you ready?” His first beta asked, coming up to stand beside him. Lycaon turned his attention to his friend, mustering a smile.

“I’m fine, Ansel. Go ahead. I’ll join you once you’ve turned.”

The beta turned to leave, but stopped, considering the expression on his Alpha’s face. “You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

Lycaon growled, his yellow eyes flashing in warning. Ansel immediately bowed his head slightly in submission.

“My apologies. I meant no disrespect, Lycaon. Just… have you even asked him? Asked him if he wanted to join us?”

Lycaon clenched his jaw, looking away. “He has his own family, Ansel. He has his mother; I would never tear him away from them.”

“Maybe so, but don’t you think he deserves a choice?” Ansel asked, squeezing his friend’s shoulder as Lycaon considered his words. He slapped his Alpha’s back affectionately, moving to leave. “I better wrangle in the young wolves. They’re going to blow old Ragnar’s patience at the rate they’re going.” The beta observed in amusement, causing Lycaon to chuckle in agreement. They could see the young wolves from here, full of energy from the turn, clambering for the older wolf’s attention, playfully nipping at the old dog’s ears and causing him to snarl in warning. Not that the young wolves listened.

Ansel quickly walked away, finally giving in to the pull of the moon and letting the turn overwhelm him. His years of experience as a wolf meant the turn was quick and mostly painless, but even so, he grunted as he bones broke and realigned, skin stretching as his body grew. Roasted-coloured fur covered his body, and in a matter of seconds, another wolf was joining the pack as they rallied underneath the gaze of the moon. Lycaon watched as his beta intervened, leaping in between the young wolves and Ragnar, a snarl on his face and ears pinned back as he chided them for their behaviour.

Briefly, Lycaon wondered if his little wolf would have the same taste for mischief once he transformed, if he ever did.

Swallowing down the emotion, Lycaon averted his gaze as the young wolves dispersed under his first beta’s orders. His eyes were drawn to the light of the moon above him, every pack member now running on four legs instead of two. It was his turn now.

The Alpha closed his eyes, bathing in the moon’s light, accepting its call. Lycaon slowly knelt to the ground, splaying his hands upon the forest floor beneath him. He felt the earth, the magic beneath his fingertips and he released a deep breath, a small smile beginning to grow on his face. When he opened them, they were glowing like twin suns, the wolf breaking free. And then he began to turn.

His hands clenched into fists, crushing the fallen leaves and branches between his fingers that quickly lengthened into deadly claws. A snap sounded as his neck cracked, his body twisting as it began to morph from man to wolf. His blonde hair that hung low over his eyes, darkened in seconds to a pitch black, abyssal as the night around them, the same shade of the thick fur that grew across his skin, covering his toned body in a warm, thick coat. Suddenly he was no longer walking on two legs but rather four, his wolf towering over the smaller forms of his pack members. In one motion, he raised his head, his howl echoing throughout the woods as more joined it in chorus.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“I don’t see any.” Henrik whispered, peaking over the boulder they were hidden behind. A ledge was a few inches away, and below, a wide empty clearing in the forest.

“That’s because they don’t turn here.”

“What?” Henrik whipped his head round to stare at his brother. “Why are we here then?” He asked, standing up.

“Because I don’t want to get too close since I have to babysit you.” Klaus growled, grabbing his little brother’s arm and yanking him back down. “Now stay out of sight or we’re going back. They should appear soon.” Klaus paused, sending his brother a glance after he peaked over the boulder himself. “And while you’re at it, be quiet.”

Henrik huffed.

Klaus ignored him.

Henrik fidgeted, shuffling the leaves under his feet, the sound deafening in the silence.

Still, Klaus didn’t comment.

Seconds past.

Henrik began to click his knuckles and Klaus closed his eyes, teeth clenching.

Eventually, Henrik stopped.

Time past in peaceful silence, and finally Klaus took a deep breath, grateful that his brother was finally listening to him-

Henrik began to tap a rhythm on his knee, skin slapping against the fabric of his pants.

“ _Henrik_.” Klaus snarled, causing the boy to completely freeze.

“I’m being quiet.” Henrik protested. “I haven’t said a word, Nik!”

“Then perhaps I should be more specific. Don’t make a sound. That includes talking, moving and whatever else you decide to do that only serves to annoy me.”

“Can I breathe?” He asked, deadpan. His only response was a heated glare from his older brother. “Ass.” Henrik grumbled when Klaus turned away once more.

“I heard that.”

His little brother glared at him.

Klaus, once again, ignored him.

Minutes past.

“I’m bored.” Henrik muttered, folding his arms across his chest, back to the boulder.

Klaus glared at the sky above him from behind his long blonde locks. “ _You_ wanted to come.”

“Because I thought I’d see the wolf-men! I thought it would be fun!” Henrik hissed, flinging his arms into the air.

“We will. You just have to be patient.” Klaus explained, glancing at his brother before returning to watching the empty clearing.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

Klaus sighed.

“You are never going to make a good hunter.”

“I don’t care. This waiting thing is stupid. And Kol hates hunting too. Not everyone is good at it.”

“Kol hates hunting because he scares all the prey within a hundred miles with his loud mouth.” Klaus tilted his head. “I guess you are the same.”

Henrik lugged him in the shoulder, causing Klaus to nearly fall sideways, already laughing. “Shut up, Nik!” Klaus continued to laugh, holding his sides. “Stop laughing!”

“I’m stopping, I’m stopping!” Klaus declared, trying to dodge as Henrik tried to hit him again. His features were pulled tight, clearly trying to supress a smile. Henrik glared at him. “I’m not laughing!”

“You’re such an ass, Nik.” Henrik muttered, sitting back against the boulder, earning a chuckle from his brother’s direction. “Why do you always have to pick on me? Kol does it too, and Bekah. You’d think ‘lijah would be on my side, but noooo. He’s even worse. Cause he acts all nice and considerate, but really, he’s plotting the best way to get his revenge for when you swapped his clothes with Bekah’s by accident-“

Klaus froze as Henrik ranted, catching movement out of the corner of his eye.

“I tried to tell him I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident! Really, if anyone was to blame, it was Bekah, since she was the one who skipped her chores, leaving me to do it for her – that’s the sixth time this month!”

“Henrik, shut up.” Klaus whispered, eyes wide.

“So really, it was all her fault. Not that Elijah ever believed that- urmph!”

Henrik was cut off as Klaus suddenly pushed him back against the rock, covering the boy’s mouth with his palm. The young boy struggled against his brother’s grip, but Klaus held firm, keeping him pinned. Henrik glared up at him, finally giving up. And that was when he saw how wide his brother’s eyes were.

Klaus raised a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Confused, Henrik’s brows furrowed, before he slowly nodded. Cautiously - probably afraid Henrik would go back on his word -Klaus removed his hand off his little brother’s mouth, eyes already darting to something over on the other side of the boulder. He moved quietly, putting his own back to the stone, peaking over the top. After a second, he glanced at his younger brother, waving a hand for Henrik to join him. By then, Henrik had realised what was going on, and tentatively moved to squat closer to his brother, this time careful not to make a sound.

The two brothers exchanged a glance, before peaking over the boulder that hid them from sight.

“Woah…” Henrik uttered, barely a whisper as his jaw dropped. Beside him, his older brother’s eyes had widened, his jaw similarly hanging open.

Down below, a group of four wolves were sniffing around the clearing. Their yellow eyes were bright in the darkness, no coat the same. Various shades of black, grey, white, brown and red adorned their fur, melting together in array of beautiful variants. They looked young – frames lanky and thinner, without the added muscle of older wolves. Two of the wolves that were at the back of the group began to wrestle, rough-housing amongst the leaves and dirt, playfully barking at each other and nipping at each other’s ears. After a few minutes, they began to chase each other, knocking into a third wolf, a female, which instantly joined the game in retaliation. The fourth wolf ignored them, red and white fur reflecting the moonlight as it walked, nose to the ground as it picked up a multitude of scents.

“They’re smaller.” Klaus whispered.

Henrik frowned at him. “What?”

Klaus opened his mouth, clearly finding it hard to form words. “I-I don’t understand. They’re not as big as he was.”

“As big as who?” Henrik asked, leaning towards his brother, finding it hard to hear him.

It was a mistake.

His movement meant he accidentally caught his hand on a loose piece of stone, jostling it from its place. Henrik stumbled to catch it, but it was already falling, and both he and Klaus watched in horror as it fell down, hitting the dirt and leaves below with a resounding _thud_.

The wolf sniffing around looked up in time to see the stone land, and behind him, the other three wolves froze, forgetting their game. Slowly, four pairs of glowing eyes looked up at the spot where Henrik and Klaus stood, half-hidden behind the boulder, eyes wide in fear. The clearing was deathly silent.

Then the red and white wolf began to growl. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lycaon was angry.

Scratch that, he was _furious_.

A young wolf, the son of one of his trusted betas, had separated from the pack and ran off with a young female wolf (another beta’s daughter, may he add), taking the new wolves with him. All four were close in age, so he couldn’t say he was surprised they had clumped together. When a fight had broken out between two females in the pack when one was displeased by how close the other was getting to their mate, Lycaon had interfered, knowing nothing would separate them accept an Alpha’s command. The youngsters had used the opportunity to sneak off when Lycaon’s back was turned. If he didn’t know any better, he would say they had planned it.

Who was he kidding? The little omegas probably had.

As he trotted through the forest on four legs, every few metres pushing his nose to the floor to try and catch their scent, Lycaon kept his ears alert, the furry appendages twitching with every flutter of leaves rustling in the wind. He trusted Ansel to keep the pack in check while he was gone – out of all his wolves, Ansel was probably the one with the most refined control, even on a full moon. He would be able to keep the pack away from the caves while simultaneously keeping his own wolf in check. Hunting was usually the best distraction, chasing after some succulent buck, teeth tearing into it’s delicious hide-

Focus! He needed to focus! Lycaon stopped, raising his head and giving it a good shake, before returning his nose to the ground. The young wolves had run through a river a little way back, so he had lost their scent in the water (something that was done intentionally, he was sure) but if he could just catch a whiff…

A child’s scream pierced the air, cutting through the forest like a knife. Lycaon’s head shot up, ears alert and wet nose twitching. His ears turned, twisting round on his head, before returning to facing the front as he tried to pinpoint the sound. A second scream pierced the air, and this time, it was followed by a wolf’s howl.

A hunting howl.

Lycaon sprang into motion, sprinting through the trees with supernatural speed, panic clouding his senses. The wind tousled his fur, his form becoming a blur as he shot through the forest, soaring over fallen logs and smashing through bushes. Another scream pierced the air, louder than the first two, followed by more seconds later, but this time they were screams of pain rather than fear. Lycaon skidded across the leaves and dirt, rounding a small rockface as he changed direction, racing towards the sound. He shot past a clearing and jumped a solid twelve feet, scrambling onto the higher level of land, barely dodging a tree as he continued forward.

He was getting closer now, his hearing picking up more. Snarling and wolfish growls hit his ears, terrified shouts combining with the screams, making him run faster. Lycaon’s muzzle twisted with rage, lips curling into its own snarl. 

The Black Wolf burst through the trees, hackles raised and teeth bared. He hesitated as he took in the scene, the wolves tearing apart what looked to be a boy, the child’s screams tearing through the air. Not far away, Niklaus was lying on the floor, screaming his little brother’s name as tears cascaded down his face.

 _Niklaus_.

The Black Wolf’s features slackened in shock, the snarl fading from his face. Within a second, it had come back, twice as ferocious, his instincts overwhelming his logical thoughts. The Black Wolf leapt forward, teeth flashing as he pounced onto the closest young wolf, sinking his teeth into the cub’s shoulder as he slammed it into the ground. The others scattered, leaving their meal as they whipped round, snarling and snapping, preparing to fight their attacker. However, that soon changed when they recognised their Alpha towering before them, their fellow omega pinned beneath his deadly black claws. The two new wolves instantly sunk to the ground, whining as they became submissive under their Alphas unrelenting glare. Underneath his claws, the female wolf whimpered, blood staining her dark brown coat where her wounds were. The male wolf, the son of one of his betas, lowered his head, ears pinned back, but a low growl emanated from his throat, defiant in the face of his Alpha.

Lycaon stared him down, yellow eyes shining brightly with hellish rage. A deep, guttural growl escaped his throat, teeth bared in threat. The young wolf responded in kind, not backing down.

The Black Wolf saw red.

Forgetting the female beneath his claws, Lycaon pounced onto the young male wolf who quickly seemed to flinch, finally realising he had gone too far. It bared its teeth, trying to go for its Alpha’s neck in defence, but Lycaon was quicker, slashing his claws across the wolf’s face, crushing it into the ground. The youngster instantly began to whine, submissive under his Alpha’s power. It was no use. He would see no mercy from The Black Wolf, not tonight. Not after he had found his son in tears, mourning a dying brother.

Lycaon snarled, sinking his teeth into the wolf’s neck with a sickening crunch, lifting the smaller form into the air and shaking it like a rag doll. The young wolf’s neck snapped, and Lycaon threw the corpse into the nearest tree with a powerful twist of his body, discarding the wolf ruthlessly. The other young wolves ran, scattering like frightened rats. The female wolf limped behind, injured as she was, and Lycaon easily caught her, pouncing onto her with a speed unlike anything the rest of his pack possessed.

A part of Lycaon knew the male wolf had been the true culprit, probably pressuring the girl into coming with him, or perhaps she followed him out of blind loyalty. The new wolves were equally not to blame, they didn’t have control, and the rush of power from the full moon probably led to some rash decisions before they turned. But Lycaon wasn’t thinking clearly either. The full moon was high in the sky, his instincts were blaring _kill, kill, kill,_ and his son was _right there_ , terrified, the body of his little brother – _a child, a fucking child_ – bleeding out on the grass beside him.

Lycaon didn’t bother with snapping her neck. He just ripped her head off.

It landed a few metres away, blood spraying across the grass, following the arc her head had took through the air. Lycaon panted, blood painting his lolling tongue a dark red, his muzzle and teeth equally blood-stained. Some of it was even in his fur, soaking it. He could smell iron in the air. 

Lycaon took his claws out of her hide as he stared after the new wolves, who were quickly disappearing into the woods. He took a step forward, bloodlust clouding his judgement, intending to hunt them both down, but broken sobs coming from behind him halted him in his tracks.

Niklaus.

Lycaon turned, yellow eyes focusing on his son as he frantically crawled across the forest floor, cheeks wet with tears. When Niklaus finally reached his little brother, he grabbed onto his arm, hauling himself up to lean over him.

“HENRIK! Henrik!” Klaus called, instantly holding his hands onto his brother’s wounds, hands coming away red. “No, no, no, no!”

The bloodlust faded from Lycaon’s mind, only to be replaced by horror. On the ground, the dying boy let out a gurgle, choking on his own blood as his eyes flickered to Niklaus.

“Hen, please. Stay with me.” Klaus pleaded, sobbing. He looked up, meeting Lycaon’s gaze for the first time. “Please, you have to help him!”

Lycaon stepped forward, his wolfish features contorted in the closest thing to human expression. His eyes were tinged with sadness as his voice sounded in Niklaus’ mind. _I’m so sorry, little wolf. I-I was too late._

“No, you have to save him!” Klaus yelled, already deep in denial. Lycaon didn’t move nor did he answer. A part of Klaus knew what it meant, even if he refused to accept it, desperation soon taking over. “PLEASE! I CAN’T LOSE HIM!”

_Little wolf… There’s nothing I can do._

“No, no, no. There’s got to be a way-“ Klaus paused as Henrik choked, coughing up blood. “Henrik! Henrik, please, you’ve got to hold on!”

Lycaon stepped forward. _Little wolf…_

“No, stay back!” Klaus yelled, eyes wild as tears continued to stream down his face. Lycaon paused.

_He’s not got long left. There’s nothing you or I can do._

“THEN WHAT USE ARE YOU!” He screamed, clutching Henrik’s body tighter. The wolf’s eyes widened, taking a step back as his ears lowered in guilt and shame. Klaus returned his gaze to his little brother. He placed a hand on his cheek, smearing blood on the boy’s face. “It’s going to be alright, you’re going to be alright, Hen.”

“’i-ik.” Henrik tried to speak, blood dripping out of his mouth in heavy rivets. The deep bites and claw marks around his neck continued to soak his tunic. “N-N-Nik.”

“Henrik, it’s alright, I’m here.” Klaus reassured, summoning some fragment of a smile as his little brother’s eyes met his.

“m’s-s-scar’d”

Lycaon watched as his son’s face broke, shattering like fragile glass.

“I’m sorry, Hen. I’m so sorry. I should have never listened to you.”

“-i-ik, m’sc-aar’d”

Klaus sobbed. “I’m sorry. I know you’re scared. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Hen.” Klaus hugged Henrik closer, applying more pressure to the boy’s wounds. But it was too late.

Henrik’s rapid breaths stopped, his chest stilling as his blood continued to pour out of him. Klaus froze, catching the moment the light in his brother’s eyes vanished, staring blankly at nothing.

“Henrik?” Klaus clutched the boy’s face, the head rolling limply. “Henrik?” Klaus shook the limp body slightly. “Hen?”

Lycaon stepped forward, heart breaking at the sight.

_He’s gone, little wolf._

Klaus looked up, staring at the wolf a few feet away. “No, he isn’t. He isn’t.”

_Niklaus…_

Anger leapt into his son’s eyes, and under the light of the full moon, Lycaon could have sworn they flashed yellow for a tiny second.

“NO! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

_Little wolf, please-_

“GO AWAY! GET OUT OF HERE, BEAST!” Klaus roared, causing Lycaon to physically recoil, flinching hard. The wolf took a step back. “LEAVE!”

Lycaon glanced down to the dead boy in his son’s arms, then back to the wild, tear-stained face of his son.

“GO!” Klaus roared, voice breaking.

Lycaon walked backwards, pushed back by the rage, pain and hatred in his son’s words. After one last deliberating glance, the Black Wolf turned, obeying Klaus’ command. He ran, disappearing into the forest, fur blending in with the darkness. The fight left Klaus, and he turned back to his little brother.

He didn’t move till morning, crying over his brother's body until he had no tears left, repeating over and over how sorry he was to someone who would never answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...  
> ...  
> ...
> 
> I'd say I was sorry... but I'm really not.
> 
> You don't see many fics that include what happened with Henrik. So I decided to write one, if only including him for one chapter. And before you try and kill me for this, remember, you're the ones that read it, not me.
> 
> Please leave a comment! I'd love to hear what you think! Or your predictions for where this story is going.


	3. A Mother's Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther has turned her children into vampires and Klaus has finally unlocked his werewolf side, igniting a chain of events that sets the course of the centuries to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back. Not as long a wait this time, since this chapter was written before chapter 2. Throws you straight in-media-res.
> 
> UPDATE: I've added an extra scene to this chapter at the end. I wrote it for the next chapter, but then I realised it fits better here. Thank you for such the positive response to this story! I'm trying to get the next chapter written for you all!

The most dominant emotion Klaus registers is fear. And that fear, despite how much it terrifies him, makes him feel powerful. Desperate. So he fights back. Fights back with everything he has. But as always, Mikael is still stronger.

His father’s - should he even be calling him that now he knows the truth? - arms circle around him in an iron grip, dragging him backwards, never faltering as he kicks and punches, desperately trying to free himself. The wolf is running wild inside him, he can feel it, breaking free in his fear. He snarls, wolfish canines erupting from his gums, and without thinking he sinks them deep into the arm that cages him.

Mikael screams.

With enough force to fell a tree, Klaus breaks his grip and shoves him away, running the first chance he gets. He doesn’t get very far before pain slices into his head and he is forced to his knees. Crying out, he turns his head, and his heart stops. His mother’s expression is broken, showing her distress for causing her child pain as she chants, her hand splayed out in front of her. The agony inside his head is nothing compared to the pain that pierces his heart in the face of her betrayal.

“Mother, please...” He begs, crying out once more as the pain in his head intensifies.

His Mother shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes. “I’m sorry Niklaus, but this is for your own good.”

The statement, he knows, is meant to comfort him, to reassure him. But it doesn’t. It can’t, not when he only sees how twisted it is, even cruel. A new wave of fear hits and he gasps in shock from the force of it.

Mikael is getting up now, recovering from his attack. He’s aware of Elijah, not far away, frozen at what he sees, conflicted about which side he should be on. But Klaus knows where his brother’s loyalty lies, even if he doesn’t, and he knows his brother will not come to his aid. He can see it on his face. His mother is still looking at him with that horrible expression, as if she expected him to forgive her.

For the first time in his life, Klaus feels utterly alone.

_A wolf is never weak, as long as it is never alone. And you are not alone, little wolf._

Something clicks inside his head, pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Somehow, he had known. He had always known. He just refused to acknowledge it. But denial would not help him now, especially when his family had turned his back on him. _Betrayed_ him.

His yellow eyes flashed as his instincts flared, knowing exactly what to do. His mother seemed to realise his intentions and he revelled in the pleasure her fear gave him. Good. Let her know what was coming for her.

“NO!” She screamed, but it was too late. Klaus raised his head to the sky and released a long, deafening howl. It echoed, travelling miles, communicating his desperation and fear - a distress call.

Enraged, Mikael grabbed Klaus by his hair, yanking him to his feet and breaking the howl abruptly. Klaus struggled, grasping at the arm that quickly pressed against his windpipe. But the pressure only lasted a few seconds before Mikael threw him through the air, sending him slamming into a tree. The force of the hit was crippling, and Klaus fell to the floor with a deafening crash of splintered wood and crushed leaves. Clutching his ribs in pain, it took a few seconds for Klaus to push himself up to his knees, aware that Mikael was stalking up to him.

“You’re going to regret that, boy.” The man snarled, eyes ablaze.

Suddenly, a howl pierced through the air, stopping Mikael in his tracks, halfway to Klaus. They all whipped their heads towards the source of the sound, and Klaus couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.

“Father...” He breathed; eyes fixed on the woods. His whispered words caused Mikael’s gaze to whip back towards him, rage engulfing the older man’s features as he realised Klaus wasn’t referring to him. Behind him, Esther gasped, eyes wide in fear. Klaus turned back to his parents, hybrid eyes yellow and grin wide. “He’s coming for you.”

Another howl, louder than the first, quickly followed. It was closer this time.

The realisation of that thought seemed to snap his Mother out of her fear as she turned her gaze back to Mikael. “Get him inside the circle, quickly!”

Mikael didn’t need telling twice. He dragged Klaus to his feet, but a new sense of determination had shot through the hybrid. He fought valiantly, even breaking away twice, but as another howl echoed, dangerously close to their position, his Mother seemed to panic and once again pain sliced through his head as she directed her magic at him.

“QUICKLY! ELIJAH HELP YOUR FATHER!”

Crying out, Klaus sunk to his knees, but even as Mikael grabbed his arm he snarled, teeth only just missing the man’s hand. Distracted by Mikael, he didn’t notice his brother before it was too late, who grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He was about to fight back – kick or do something – but then a loud crash came from the woods, the sound of wood snapping and huge feet slamming against the earth as they landed from a leap over a fallen tree. They froze, gazes turning to the treeline as the huge black wolf burst through the darkness. He skidded to a stop, snarling with his teeth bared, the white canines gleaming in the moonlight, ready for a fight. The wolf’s head swerved from side to side, noticing the fire Esther had built, the circular white boundary line she had spelled, the metal chains intended to restrain Klaus and finally the family themselves, Klaus held back by his brother and Mikael. The snarl died on Lycaon’s wolfish face, shock replacing it as his ears rose from their place pulled back against his head. His yellow eyes met his son’s identical orbs, reflecting his fear in the mirrored gaze. It was Klaus who recovered first.

“FATHER!” He screamed, trying to break free but Mikael quickly pulled him back, helping his brother drag him towards the boundary line. It broke Lycaon from his shocked trance, leaping forward as the snarl returned to his face. Esther screamed for Mikael and Elijah to hurry as Lycaon ran towards them, with all the fury of a hound sent from the depths of Hell, fur as black as the night around them and eyes glowing like discs of orange Hellfire.

Klaus struggled, fought tooth and nail, but they were stronger, and just as Lycaon leaped, intending to tear Mikael apart, Klaus felt Elijah drag him across the boundary line. The Black Wolf slammed into the invisible wall, as Klaus fell to the ground with Elijah, Mikael at their side.

Shaking his head, Lycaon got back to his feet and tried to cross the line once more, smashing into the boundary with the force of a tsunami, but Esther’s powerful magic held and the huge wolf only succeeded in causing himself more harm. Klaus leapt forward before Elijah and Mikael could recover from their shock, intending to cross from his side, but Esther raised her arms and suddenly fire leapt to life along the boundary line, trapping them all in a ring of fire.

“FATHER!” Klaus screamed, a primal terror choking his insides. Mikael grabbed him and dragged him back, pulling him towards the chains that would restrain him against the cross.

 _“NIKLAUS!”_ Lycaon yelled in equal fear as he realised he could not get to his son, the voice loud inside Klaus’ head.

Snarling, Lycaon renewed his assault against the invisible wall, his rage and desperation only intensifying as the flames burned his paws, licking at his fur. He watched helplessly as they chained his son to the wood, both his brother and Mikael ignoring his begging pleas.

 _“ESTHER! STOP THIS MADNESS! ESTHER!”_ Lycaon’s snarl softened as he turned to her, the tension in his wolf form vanishing as his body slumped with defeat. _“Please. Don’t take this from him. Tell Mikael I’ll take him with me, he won’t have to look at him again-”_

“I’m sorry, my love.” Esther whispered, locking with the wolf’s eyes as they widened.

 _“Esther, no! You don’t understand what you’re taking from him! This will destroy him! You’ll leave a scar on his soul that will never heal! Esther, please!”_ Klaus heard his father plead, but his mother was already turning away from the wolf. She began to chant and the fire rose higher as her magic made the wind whip across the clearing, snapping angrily at everything it touched. _“NO!”_

The wolf’s voice was the last thing Klaus heard before the pain tore his body apart and he threw his head back, releasing a pain-ridden howl to the sky.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lycaon yelled through their mental bond, pleading for Esther to stop. She wasn’t listening, chanting louder to drown his voice out. Then he started screaming Niklaus’ name, renewing his assault against the boundary wall as his son’s screams tore through the air.

But he had been too late. Just like last time.

A crippling sense of helplessness overcame him, defeat itching to consume him. There was nothing he could do. Stopping his useless attempts to break through the boundary wall, Lycaon looked up and was forced to watch as his son’s very identity was torn savagely from his soul.

 _“NIKLAUS!”_ Lycaon yelled mentally, watching as Klaus fell to his knees, holding onto Elijah for support. Esther’s chanting had stopped, the wind died and fire withering away. _“Niklaus, please!”_ Lycaon yelled again, his fear rising. Nothing. The wolf let out a whine. _“Please, answer me little wolf.”_ Lycaon pleaded, softer this time, but still, his son didn’t react. His brother was talking to him, asking him if he was alright and Klaus was pushing him away, too weak to put up a decent fight. When he looked up, finally locking his gaze with Lycaon, his eyes were wide with fear and confusion. That was when Lycaon knew, and his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

Klaus couldn’t hear him. Not anymore.

“No.” The wolf let out a broken whine, stepping backwards. “No.”

Eyes swirling with grief, Lycaon raised his head to the moon and released a mournful howl of despair. Esther observed him, her expression breaking upon seeing her past lover’s sorrow. The howl died, brokenly melancholic, communicating the deepest loss.

 _“Lycaon...”_ Esther whispered inside his mind.

Whether it was her voice, or that fact she dared mentally voice his name, just as softly as she used to do when they were alone years ago, something inside the wolf snapped. His wolfish features morphed from sadness to pure, untamed fury and whipped round to face her, snarling dangerously as she recoiled in terror. His teeth bared, he snapped his jaws against the boundary wall, clearly intending to tear her apart, her magic the only thing forcing him back. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Mikael pick up his sword from the ground.

 _“Mark my words, witch,”_ Lycaon growled, _“You will pay dearly for this.”_

Esther swallowed as those yellow eyes bore into her, poisoned by hatred that she had created. She had always felt safe when she saw those eyes glowing in the darkness, watching over her and her family. She always knew, even on a full moon when the pull was strongest, Lycaon would never hurt her or her children. The bloodlust in his yellow eyes now begged to differ.

“WATCH OUT!” Klaus yelled in warning as Mikael swung his sword over the boundary wall, aiming for Lycaon’s neck. Faster than a crack of lightning, the wolf swerved, catching the sword in his mighty jaws and snapping the metal in half as if it was made of paper. Mikael immediately backed away, drawing a dagger from his boot.

“Leave, beast, or I will kill the boy.” Mikael threatened, pointing his dagger at Niklaus. The wolf snarled in warning, but it was Esther that moved towards her husband.

“Mikael-”

“SILENCE!” He roared, snarling more viciously than the wolf before him. “YOU DARE LAY WITH THIS BEAST! DARE BETRAY ME! ME!” He slammed his own chest to exaggerate his words. “You have no right to speak, witch. I will do as I see fit.” Mikael finished, jabbing an accusing finger at Esther. She flinched, obviously shaking in fear and it only made Lycaon growl louder.

Raising his head and curling his lips into a ferocious snarl, Lycaon’s eyes flicked to behind Mikael, catching his son’s eyes. Klaus was still slumped against his brother, weak and vulnerable after the binding of his werewolf side. He wouldn’t be able to fight Mikael. Lycaon froze slightly upon the realisation, knowing he had no choice. He knew when to accept defeat. Fine. Mikael could win this battle he so deeply wanted. Then he would give the bastard a _war_.

Lycaon locked his gaze with his son, trying to communicate wordlessly. Klaus' eyes widened in horror, somehow how understanding the intention behind the wolf's eyes.

_Forgive me, little wolf. I'll find you. I swear I'll find you._

Lycaon's features twisted, turning his gaze back to Mikael. Snapping his jaws at the monster of a man one last time, the Black Wolf snarled, turning round and running back to the trees. He tried to ignore the sound of his son calling him but even before the distance made them die away, Lycaon knew his screams would haunt him for centuries.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Rebekah swallowed. Ahead, her brother was sat by the lakeside, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around his bent legs, appearing smaller than she had ever seen him. The sun was beginning to rise, peaking over the trees on the other side of the water and reflecting off her brother’s tousled dirty blonde curls like a golden halo. She walked closer, stopping when she noticed her brother’s shoulders tense, knowing he had heard her tentative footsteps.

“Nik?”

Her voice seemed too loud in the silence. She fought the urge to cringe. Klaus didn’t turn around.

“Go away, Rebekah.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. She caught the sound of a sniffle before he could stifle it, his head turned slightly to address her, making the tear tracks visible on his cheeks visible in the morning light for the first time. Her already dead heart seemed to break even more at sight. Never, in all their years - in all of Mikael’s history of violence - could she ever remember seeing her brother cry.

Mikael beat that urge out of him a long time ago.

“I heard what happened, Nik.” She began, careful with her words. “E-Elijah told me. About the full moon, and what Mother did last night.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to leave?” He snarled, and she caught a flash of the monster underneath his skin, black veins crawling underneath his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere, Nik. Not now, not ever.” Klaus didn’t reply to that. Slowly, she placed her hand on his shoulder, watching as he flinched, before finally relaxing under her touch. She moved to her knees, catching his tear-stained gaze. “You’re my brother. Always and forever. I don’t care what Father says.”

He was reluctant, pushing against her, but she persisted and after a few seconds she managed to wrap her arms around him, wrestling him into a hug. His reaction was immediate, body sagging against her. A broken creature seeking attention and comfort yet pushing it away in fear of more violence. Rebekah squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to break down in front of him. She adjusted her hold, moving so they both faced the water and his head rested more on her shoulder than her chest. His hands were gripping her arms so desperately, she feared he might break the bones accidentally. Rebekah didn’t comment though. Didn’t point out the tears that were flowing even more freely now, soaking her tunic. He didn’t need that, not from her.

“I can’t feel him anymore.” He whispered brokenly once his sobs had finally died down.

She pulled away to look at him. “What?”

“I can’t feel him anymore. My father.” Rebekah’s eyes widened, but Klaus didn’t see it, refusing to look at her. “I didn’t realise before, that I could, but now I can’t and all I can feel is the hole that was left. I used to be able to understand him. I could hear him; hear the wolves speak.” He explained. “But now I can’t, not anymore. And I feel so guilty, sister, for wanting that back, after everything that happened to Henr-“ Klaus choked on the name, turning his head completely away from her as more tears feel. “But I-I feel empty. It’s crushing me. And it’s so cold. Before there was always this, this heat” Klaus paused, his hand clenching over his heart, “- this fire - inside. But now it’s gone, and I feel like I might freeze.” Klaus let his hand fall, shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’m just so cold. So cold, empty and alone.”

“You’re not alone, Nik.”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips, making Rebekah’s heart twist with dread. “Yes I am. I’m not a Mikaelson and I’m not one of them either. Don’t you see? I have no kin. Not anymore.” Klaus turned back to the water, eyes staring unseeingly into the distance. “It feels like I’ve died. A part of me wishes I had instead.”

Rebekah whipped her head to face him, horror contorting her features as she tried to find the jest in his words, only to find none. “Don’t say that.” She snapped, her voice cracking. “Don’t you dare say that, Nik. I can’t lose you too.”

Klaus shook his head. “You’ve already lost me, sister. Mother made sure of that.” Klaus stood, turning around and walking away, leaving Rebekah behind on the pebbled shoreline. She didn’t notice the change in his demeanour; didn’t hear the rage and hate that had crept into his final words - the determination in his step as he walked away. She was too busy releasing her own tears, the encroaching sunrise breaking out across the brightening sky in an array of red shades, like pools of crimson blood. By the time the red had faded to melted tones of orange and yellow, she didn’t believe she had any tears left to cry.

When they found their Mother’s body hours later, she realised she had been wrong.


End file.
